


Baby Ivar

by Inforapoundd



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Cute, F/M, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Marriage Proposal, One Shot, POV First Person, Possessive Ivar (Vikings), Smut, Swearing, ivar - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-12 16:54:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19949650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inforapoundd/pseuds/Inforapoundd
Summary: Ivar surprises his lady with a special gift.Written for Tumblr writing challenge. Other writing on my masterlist at @inforapound





	Baby Ivar

His flushed cheeks told me he had something on his mind. His relentless kisses and affectionate hands running up and down my thigh told me he could barely wait to get me alone. 

Our courtships had been anything but traditional. No evening walks on the beach, no small gifts of sweets or jewelry and no knives exchanged between our families.  
No, not with my Prince. Ivar had stared at me for over a year. Stared. Painfully and awkwardly, admired me from afar. Like a lunatic. I knew he was insecure about his legs, but he was still Ivar. Intelligent, handsome, strong, skilled Ivar. Yes, and a son of the King. But really, what did it even mean to be the youngest son of an absentee King?  
After a year of his tracking eyes and forced aloofness, I began to smile back and occasionally, just to make him dart into hiding, waive. His brothers were all aware of his uncommunicative feelings and told me they jabbed away at him in private.

Enough was enough. After the Jule ceremony and late-night feast, enjoyed with multiple cups of ale, I crossed the hall heading in his direction. Walking right up to him, I wished him great fortune for the year to come. Rolling his eyes coolly, he looked away, muttering something indiscernible. What a shit, I thought.  
Instead of, metaphorically speaking, placing my hands on my hips and telling him off, I sat next to him on the bench and scooted in close. Stretching my arm across the back of his shoulders, I leaned in and held my lips to his ear. 

“Hi, Ivar.” 

He froze as if he had turned to ice. It was beautiful.

Clearing his throat, he kept his eyes from me and spoke stiffly. “I did not know you were here this evening”.

“Oh really.” I smiled, not at all concerned with the size of my smirk.

“What is your name again?” he lifted his horn and took a long pull. His poise looking a tad thin.

Good one, I thought. 

“Hmm. Your brother told me you carved it on the wall of your chambre. You cannot recall it?”

“Which brother?” he barked, more angry than embarrassed.

“Does it matter?” I squeezed his shoulders causing him to finally turn and glance at me. Looking away again, his eyes focused on the far side of the crowded room. 

Pressing my lips to his ear, I whispered, “Are you going to spend another year pretending not to watch me or are you going to follow me to the docks and put your mouth on mine?”

His head jerked.

With a sweet smile, I stood and slipped through the crowd towards the open doors. Glancing back, Ivar sat still frozen, eyes wide staring at the floor in front of him. Gods, the boy needed a nudge.

Dangling my feet, I sat on the edge of the dock. It was not long before I heard the drag and thud of his fast and powerful crawl on the wooden planks. I remember thinking that he had not taken as long as I thought he might. There was hope!

Stopping beside me, he dropped his legs over the edge of the dock and sat within reach.

“Are you going to say anything?” I asked in a soft tone after a couple of strained moments.

“No” he replied, cocking his jaw and looking clearly out of his element.

“Okay, no talking. Would you like to kiss me?” 

“If you want,” he shrugged casually, staring out at the dark ocean. 

We sat in silence. Me smiling and him looking like he had seen a spirit. After a few more moments of listening to the waves lap against the peer, he said, “I would not stop you if you tried.” 

Out of the corner of his periphery, his eyes rapidly glanced to me. Over and over and over. His jaw pushed forward and his body was tense. He looked deranged. Nearly laughing, I took charge. 

“Ivar, look at me.”

He did. My sweet Viking was terrified. 

I leaned forward and he quickly followed. Our noses nearly touching. I could smell the mead on his warm breath and almost hear his mind ticking away. I waited. Wanting him so badly to close the gap, but, he remained still. 

Pulling back, I said, “For fuck sakes Lothbrok”.

Grabbing the back of his neck I pressed my mouth hard against his soft lips. And were they ever soft. Full and warm and oh so Ivar. Clumsy and unsure, with an eagerness that made up for it all. His mouth felt like a dream. It warmed my entire body and his inexperience only prompted me to show him his effect. I moaned and whimpered softly into his mouth and ran my fingers through his short puffy hair. Swirling my tongue against his. I thought he was going to eat my face off. We must have kissed for an hour. 

“I have to go,” I whispered, finally pulling back. 

Anger flickered in his expression, but he quickly smoothed his demeanor. It was a lie. I had nowhere to be, but I was not going to be too accessible our first night. Moving to my knees, I started to stand. He grabbed the skirt of my dress. 

“When can I see you?” his head was tilted up to me, his voice insecure. 

“When you ask me to meet you?”

“Tomorrow?” his eyebrows lifted in question.

“Tomorrow what?”

“Must you be difficult?” 

“Must you?” I responded with a grin. 

“Will you come watch me train tomorrow?” he spoke with exaggerated politeness.

“I would like that”. 

I leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss against his now smiling mouth.

The following afternoon, I watched him train. Afterward, we kissed. He asked to meet the next day. The following day, the same. Training followed by more kissing and another request to meet. On and on it went. Kissing at the training field turned into sharing the evening meal nearly every night. The evening meals led to candlelight evenings spent in his chambre. Talking and laughing. Snuggling and kissing. Those nights evolved into groping and sucking and, uncontrollably, kneading each other's flesh. Ivar’s face always ending up between my thighs. He was such an eager boy. So wanting to learn and please. Those bright blue eyes, always looking up to watch me writhe and call out his name, would undoubtedly, be my undoing. In just a few months, the boy could make me howl. The wolves in the grassy hills were likely impressed.

His brothers were not, having to share bedroom walls. Less than impressed, particularly, with our constant displays of affection. It was impossible to sit next to Ivar without his hands on me or his kisses covering my face and neck and shoulders. He would growl and threaten any man who seemed to give me more than a momentary glance. So proud to finally have a beauty of his own. It was fun to boost his confidence on feast nights. Fawn over him and feed him in front of the other men. Rub his cock through his pants while sitting on his lap, running my fingers through his thick dark hair. Utter, loud enough for the whole table to hear, things like, “If you keep looking at me like that, we won’t make it to the bed.” He loved it. Lived for it. 

Margrethe, the wet rag, was not even slightly amused. She despised our voyeur displays. Rolling her eyes and constantly scoffing. Staring with a face as if she had smelt something rotten. Gods, I hated her. If only the rumours she spouted about my beautiful man were untrue. It made me furious that she was the one other woman who knew my sweetheart could not lay with a woman. 

We tried. Oh, had we tried. Everything. Gentle touches, rough aggressive play, my mouth, my womanhood. My behind! Blood, knives, herbs. Even Seidr. He sacrificed a goat one night. It destroyed him. He would push me away for periods of time. I let him sit in his sorrow, only able to imagine the impact of such a disability for a young Viking man. He would break things off with me every other week in those early days. Eventually, finding me, crawling to me and placing his head in my lap or against my leg. I did not care that he could not make love to me. What we could do, we did with love. That was enough. 

So tonight, there was something different about his energy. Anxious. Excited. 

“I want to go,” he whispered in my ear. 

“Yes, we will. Soon. Let us eat first.” I leaned over and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

The brothers were all there. With their whore Margrethe. She was playing royalty tonight with a clean borrowed dress and a few glasses of mead already down. 

“What is the rush?” she slurred smirking over at us. “Raising off to grind like two women?” 

Ubbe grabbed her thigh and squeezed, signaling a warning. 

Ivar tensed but looked back to me, leaning close he ran his lips on the skin behind my ear. 

“What?” she turned to Ubbe. “It is pathetic. They are always carrying on trying to prove...”

“Trying to prove what, slave?” I barked at her. 

Her squinty little eyes narrowed at me. 

“Something that he cannot prove,” she replied righteously.

“Common Margrethe. Enough.” Ubbe scolded. 

“Why are you even here Margrethe?” I shook my head. “Do you not have a family of cousins to jerk off somewhere?”

“You are just jealous?” she rattled on. Her thin lips pursed as if she might get sick. 

“I am jealous?” I asked in disbelief. “You are the one who is jealous.”

“Of what?” she nearly shouted.

“That I can sit on a stool without worrying my cunt will inhale it.”

Her eyes blew wide and her mouth gaped open. 

“I see you stick to the benches,” I clucked and gave her a wink.

Yep, that was a good one. The proof that I was raised with three older brothers.

Ubbe rolled his eyes and Hvitserk concealed a chuckle into his cup. Who fucking cares what Sigurd thought. Nothing impressed that bastard. I also hated him. But, only because Ivar did. 

“We are leaving (y/n),” Ivar announced clearly done with our less than dignified exchange. He slid his hand around my waist, squeezing hard. Turning to him, his face was stern with a look of warning.

It was time to go.

\---

Back in Ivar’s room, he quickly latched the door and lit more candles. 

“I have something for you. I have been working on it. A surprise.” He moved briskly around the room, his eyes bright and his energy buzzing.  
I sat on the edge of the bed as he shuffled to sit beside me. 

His brow furrowed, “Are you drunk?”

“Hmm, perhaps a little,” I replied, unsure of his question. 

“We need more than”. 

Turning, he grabbed the jug off the small table beside his bed, filling our cups carelessly.

“Thank you,” I accepted the cup. 

He chugged his down and then sat motionless staring at me. 

“What?” I whispered.

“Drink,” he looked at me expectantly.

“Oh,” I took a sip. He continued to wait. 

“What?” I repeated.

“All of it!” he exclaimed.

Widening my eyes at his instances, I emptied the cup, realizing he was truly nervous. 

“Ok,” he uttered, snatching my cup and returning it to the table. 

Reaching back onto the bed, he pulled a wooden box out from below the blanket. Straightening, he placed it on my knees.

He exhaled quickly. “Open it.” His face was earnest and sweet. I just wanted to bite him. 

Slowly, I tipped back the lid. Resting on a swath of lush red velvet, was a smooth, wooden cock, complete with balls.

“Ivar!” I rushed. “What is this?”

I picked it up, turning it over and around in my hand. I was astonished. 

“I made it” he smiled. Obviously relieved by my reaction. “I thought that I could use it on you.” Pressing his mouth flat, his forehead crinkled. “To pleasure you in the ways I cannot.”

Slamming my mouth to his, I kissed him passionately and with haste. Before his self-doubt and discomfort could take root in his brilliant mind. I pulled back; my face close to his. 

“I love it. Thank you. How did you do this?” I looked back at the wooden cock in my hand. 

“I carved it from a single piece of wood. Sanded it for days… and days” he shot me a look telling me this was to be appreciated. “Then I sealed it and polished it with beeswax from Urn’s hives. “It is perfectly smooth.” 

“You clever, clever man,” I shook my head softly in wonder. 

\---

Ivar made fast work of my beautiful blue dress, throwing it in a pile on the floor. Opening my mouth to gripe, I suddenly found two of his fingers pushing into my mouth.  
He flashed a cheeky smile. “Let the dress be woman”.

Sitting on his bed, he leaned back against his wooden headboard. Standing on my knees, I straddle his legs, sucking his fingers, swirling my tongue around the tips. He pulled them from my hungry mouth and brought them to my breast, swirling my saliva across my raised nipple. Leaning forward, his mouth replaced his fingers and he sucked hard on the tender skin of my chest. His eyes gently closed savouring the taste of my skin. My beautiful man. His hand slid up the inside of my thigh, his fingers making their way to the ache between my legs. My excitement greeted his touch with a warm slick around my opening.

“Hmm,” he moaned against me.

Placing my hands on either side of his cheeks, I pulled his face up and kissed him roughly. His lips were eager, and his tongue delved deep into my mouth. I was not the only one excited. Rocking my hips against his hand, his fingers slid back and forth. Plunging a finger into my opening, my breath shot out at the sharp sensation. Continuing to kiss me, he withdrew the finger and focussed small, pressing circles around my little bud of nerves. I pulled away from his kiss, breathing loudly and dropped my head back from the pleasure.

“Not yet my beauty. Tonight, there is more.”

“I want it now,” my voice sounding urgent and raspy. His fingers continuing to flick.

“You want what now? Hmm?” he asked, amusement thick in his tone. 

“I want you to fuck me with it.’ I straightened my head and looked at him. “Now.”

Groaning under his breath, his eyes flashed wide and he reached for the wooden statue beside him. Widening my legs, I continued kneeling over him as he brought the figure up between my thighs. Pushing the tip against my slit, he moved it back and forth, spreading my wet folds apart. Rolling my hips in time, I bucked excitedly, chasing the pressure as it passed over my opening. I wanted it. 

“Yes?” he whispered up to me, his eyes locked on my face.

I nodded.

Straightening the wood upright, he slowly pushed inside. Closing my eyes, I dropped my chin to my chest, exhaling slowing. Willing my muscles to relax and welcome the fullness.

“Ohhh” I moaned out causing him to stop. Nodding again, I gave him the signal to continue. Even with closed eyes, I could feel his gaze on my face. Scrutinizing every reaction. Sensitive to every response.

Pushing further, I took its full-length deep inside. I could not help but grind my hips around the hardness. Lowering his hand, he pushed it back up inside. He did this again, and again. Moaning loudly, my mouth fell open, my eyes still closed. Ivar sat up from the headboard, bringing his face closer to mine. 

“Yes, My Love, pump me,” I whispered, dropping my forehead to rest on his. 

His thrusts became brisk. I rocked steadily back and forth over and over, craving the feeling of the next pump.

“Wait,” he said, stopping his hand, pulling his forehead from mine. 

“What is it?”

“I want to see it inside you.”

I smiled as he carefully withdrew the wood. Spinning around, I hovered over his legs on all fours. Growling loudly at his view, he ran his thumb back and forth over my soaked opening. I pushed my knees further apart and dropped to rest on my elbows. Arching my back, I pushed my bum in the air, spreading my womanhood wide for him. His tongue hit my core, causing me to jolt forward. Swirling over my wetness, his arm hooked around my thigh and his fingers found my special spot. 

“Fuck, Ivar,” I moaned into the blanket. “You are going to make me cum.”

Stopping, he pulled back and dropped his hand. 

“Ready?”

“Gods yes,” I replied. 

I felt the bulge of the wood pressing against me. It pushed in, all at once. The gentleness now gone from his touch. The pain, as it spread my walls, only elevated my need to rock and push back against it. Immediately, he started pumping. Reaching forward, his fingers again found my clit and he rubbed it hard back and forth. His sharp tongue pressed into the tight opening of my bottom. Pushing and swirling around the contracted skin. 

I swore loudly into the blankets. It felt intense. Incredible. Earthy. My body buzzed and a flutter started deep inside. The sensitive layers of my walls began their squeeze making the wood feel bigger and relentless. Its girth and depth, along with Ivar’s sharp tongue and insistent fingers pushed my climax closer. The hot sensation on my backside adding a rawness to my need. My mouth opened and my tongue slid back and forth over my dry lips, wishing I had him in my mouth. In my throat. I wanted Ivar to fill me. Fully, in every way. My finish crashed over me like a ruthless, snapping wave. Dropping my head forward, I screamed into the blanket. Bracing myself against Ivar’s arm, my legs shook from his merciless touch. I cried out, only partly awake to the noises coming from my mouth. I slapped Ivar’ hand from my front and collapsed forward. Away from his wooden cock and ruthless tongue. My grunts morphed into ragged breaths. My eyes were still closed, and my brain had been fucked into the next room. 

“That was beautiful,” he said, running his hand along my calf. “You are so beautiful (y/n).”

“Hmm,” I moaned incoherently. 

“I will give you a few moments,” he leaned forward and squeezed my bare bum, “before we go again.”

\---

“What is it?” I asked from where I stood, drying myself, in front of the washbasin. Already knowing the answer. 

“It is nothing.” 

Moving to the bed, I sat on the end, tilting my head and eyeing him thoughtfully. 

“Ivar?” my tone gentle. 

“I just wonder when you will tire of me. Become unsatisfied. I can never give you a child.” He exhaled loudly looking somewhere over my shoulder. 

I adored our life together. Our friendship and sweet love making but it was moments like these that I loved him the most. When I felt how much I meant to him. That he could be soft with me. Express his fears. So unlike the Ivar Lothrok, son of Ragnar, feared in Kattegat. Volatile, cunning, seemingly arrogant. 

Sitting up, I crawled toward him. Automatically, he lifted his arm, allowing me space to slide in close. Nestling in, side by side, I pulled the blanket up to cover us.

“All couples marry with the hopes of starting a family. For some, it is just not their fate. We are at an advantage Ivar. When we marry, we know exactly what we are getting. We will live a full life. You will see. A life some could not have with children.” I nodded gently. “I am sure of it.”

Ivar’s head turned toward me, his warm breath soft on my cheek. 

“What is it?” I reached up without looking to him, smoothing the scrunch lines I knew would be on his forehead.

“You would still marry me? Knowing it would only ever be us? No legacy?”

Lifting my head quickly, I pulled my hair to one side and looked at him. “Ivar, that does not mean we cannot have a legacy. And, do you truly think that I would allow your mother to arrange a marriage for you?” I scoffed resting my head back down on the pillow, looking up again to the dark ceiling. “To some gorgeous princess whose father would bestow upon you mass amounts of land and countless trunks of silver and gold?” I scoffed again. “Do you think I would let them do that to you?”

I could feel Ivar’s grin. His arm tightened around me.

“No, Ivar. I would not let that happen. Not when you can marry me. (y/n y/l/n) daughter of the second most successful horse breeder in all of Kattegat. I can drink like a warrior and cuss like one too.”

“You will marry me then?” 

I sighed, turning to look at his perfect face, mostly covered in shadow. “Of course. I decided it long ago.”

“When?” his voiced lifted. 

“Before we were together. When I walked down the dock, one afternoon, and saw that you had covered yourself in fishnet to avoid being seen following me. I thought, what a crazy stalker. I knew then, I had to have you.” 

Our laughter erupted into the nearly black room. 

“Wait,” he snapped, steadying his voice. “How many trunks of silver and gold would come with this gorgeous princess?” 

Snatching my feather pillow, I slammed it into his face. 

Grabbing me tight, he flipped me over with his strong arms. Pulling me close, my back pressed tight to his warm broad chest. He nuzzled his nose into my hair. Ahhhh, Valhalla. 

“Kiss me,” he said leaning over my shoulder. I turned and pressed my lips firmly to his. 

“I love you (y/n). Sleep well.”

“I love you too Ivar. Goodnight.”

I blew out the candle on his bedside table and we lay still. Our bodies wrapped together, our breath relaxed and steady. My thoughts drifting into sleep. 

My eyes snapped open. I lifted my head and looked in the direction of the nightstand where the wooden box sat. Lifting my head off the pillow, I leaned forward. 

“Goodnight Baby Ivar. I love you”, I whispered in a silken voice. 

A long, dramatic sigh came from behind me. “Is this going to be a thing (y/n)?”

“It is going to be a thing Ivar”.


End file.
